Page 74 of Consumed By the Mafia

The elevator opened into the foyer with a softdingand Ryoma stepped out, gun at his side and ready. He made a conscious effort to keep his breathing even and strained his ears, listening for any sound—any warning or other indication of life—beyond the short wall that obscured the view into the main space. For a heavy second, he heard nothing.

“Cristiano?” Felicity called from the direction of the sitting room. Curiosity, perhaps a bit of caution, but no traces of pain, laced her voice. The question itself also confirmed that Cris wasn’t yet home.

Ryoma took a step forward. “Sorry, little sister,” he said as he brought himself into view. “Just me.”

He spotted her easily, curled up in her favorite corner of the sofa, her Kindle in her lap and a mostly empty glass of something that had once been cold on the side table near her arm. She looked comfortable, like she’d been relaxed up to thepoint where her confusion at his arrival had jarred her peaceful state of mind. He felt bad for that, but also grateful that she showed no signs of distress. That he hadn’t been too late.

Felicity blinked widened amber eyes at him, sitting up straight. “Ryoma?” Her gaze dropped to the gun still visible at his side. “What the hell?”

He raised his free hand, palm out, and briefly cast his gaze around the rest of the space just to make sure nothing looked amiss. Probably he should jog downstairs and investigate that half of the penthouse, too, but he needed to put her at ease first. “You heard about the situation with Eleonora?” She probably knew more than he did, in fact.

Slowly, Felicity nodded. “Not that you’re not welcome here,” she said, “but you never use that door. And why the gun?”

Her suspicion stung, but he reminded himself it wasn’t wholly unwarranted, either. Not from her perspective, at least. Aloud, Ryoma said, “We got more out of Chief Silva, and long story short, I’m worried Mama El won’t be the only target today.”

Felicity’s mouth dropped open. “Iris,” she whispered, “and Grace?”

“All of you.” He motioned, just a little, with the gun. “This was in case I wasn’t the first one here.”

Felicity swallowed and set her Kindle on the table beside her drink. “Have you talked to Cristiano?”

“Tried calling, but he didn’t answer. Neither did Mikey.” Ryoma really hoped that was because they were too frazzled to be civil or take phone calls, and not because theywere the ones in danger. But if they were, they were much more equipped to protect themselves without proper notice. He tipped his head to the side. “Mind if I check out the lower level real quick?”

Her gaze snapped in the direction of the stairs that led below and she nodded. “Go ahead. I’m going to call him, see if he answers for me.”

Ryoma nodded, paused, and fished his keys from his pocket. He tossed the keys to her. “If you hear even a single gunshot, just get the hell out. You know where I park. Mikey’s company is probably safe if they’re targeting families today.”

Felicity’s hand closed over the keys and she chewed on her lips. He knew her well enough to see the distress in her eyes, and he couldn’t blame her. But she didn’t argue. “Okay,” she said instead. “But don’t die. I know things are tense and weird right now, but losing you would really mess Cris up. And it’d make me pretty sad, too.”

Something churned in his chest and Ryoma offered her a brief smile. “I’m not goin’ anywhere, little sister.” He forced himself forward, then, not wanting to waste time. He couldn’t afford to let her words distract him, even if they made him feel good in a way he hadn’t realized he was missing. What mattered was making sure the penthouse was secure, and stayed that way.

Iris, Grace, and Brandi all had teams of security at their beck-and-call. They lived behind coded, protected gates and were surrounded in a very literal sense by armed and theoretically loyal men. Dante literally owned and controlled the entirestreethe lived on, having filled it with men who’d earned permanent homes. He’d redoubled the strength of that securityafter the incident the previous summer with his chef’s betrayal, when Iris had nearly been sniped in the yard. They were as protected as they could reasonably be.

It was up to Ryoma to do that job for Felicity’s sake until Cris came home. The tower was occupied by more than a dozen of their men, but many of those men were currently on the street. They weren’t assigned as permanent guards. In fact, many of them worked for Mikey’s security company.

As he sifted through the lower level, Ryoma flashed back to the conversation he’d had with Marchesi only a few days prior. Marchesi had claimed he wanted to take them here, to the tower. Specifically to the open floor often used for meetings in lieu of meeting at anyone’s home office. He still didn’t know if that suggestion had been Marchesi’s attempt to sound legitimate or if there was a scheme attached to that.If there was…If there was, that could mean the threat to Felicity wasn’t coming directly at her.

Was he overthinking?

Nothing looked out of place, and lower entrance was locked tight. All of which should have reassured him. But his gut was twisting too tightly for him to relax, so Ryoma reached again for his phone.

He had a message from Abby, responding to his previous text.It’s you I’m worried about.

Yeah, if his instinct was anywhere in the vicinity of right, this wasn’t going to make her feel better. He typed his new question anyway.Need you to ask Silva about anything Marchesi might have been told to do. Specifically involving the tower.

Ryoma moved slowly out of the lower space, shutting and locking the doors between the entrance and the upstairs access when he could. He couldn’t possibly keep an eye on both entrances, let alone both entrancesandFelicity, and Felicity needed to be his priority. But if he barricaded enough passageways, he’d almost certainly hear something before the intruders made it up to them. That had to be good enough. Besides, it wasn’t like Cris ever used that entrance, so it was only himself he was potentially inconveniencing.

Felicity was still on the couch, but she had obviously left and returned, as she’d traded her lightweight sundress for a sportier outfit of knee-length shorts and a loose-fitting T-shirt. This was definitely more of an outfit for running.

He hated that she’d felt the compulsion to take even that precaution, but it was smart. “Did you get through to Cris?”

She held tightly to the phone in her lap. “Yeah. He’s coming home.”

That was a relief, at least. If Cris hadn’t answered her call, Ryoma would have been forced to acknowledge the worry that his closest friend and surrogate brother might be less than okay. Granted, he could still be injured and insisting on coming home. But he was conscious and mobile, so that was a start.

“Did you … find anything downstairs?” Felicity asked hesitantly.

Ryoma shook the worried thought from his head. “No. Locked a few doors for extra insurance.” He didn’t want to tell her his other concerns. He didn’t know how to articulate them, wasn’t sure what they were specifically, only that they wherethere. Nagging at him.

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